The first thing that struck me about Lisbon was the melting pot of cultures that were going about their daily business in the perfectly aligned streets and monumental squares of the Baixa neighbourhood.
Whether it was the men from the west coast of Africa, who were proudly donning their traditional, bright coloured dress, perhaps without a place to call home other than Lisbon’s São Domingos square, or the men and women of Indian (or even Pakistani and Bangladeshi) origin, working hard in their small stores and engaging in lively conversation with the passers by, or just the locals themselves who seemed unfazed by the cultural makeup of their modern day city, it seemed like everyone had their own story to tell about being here.
This was a few years back, I was freshly minted in Portugal, and under the guise that Portugal was just “fairly similar to Spain”. I really had little idea what to expect. But this mixture of cultures that seemed to be living harmoniously side by side had me intrigued. I knew I had to learn more.
Lisbon’s immigrant population living side by side. Photo Credit: Uwe Weihe
Two years later I am again observing the scene in front of me in the same São Domingos Square, under the instruction and guidance of the lovely Filipa from Taste of Lisboa Food Tours.
“In Portugal we are tolerant,” Filipa explains, “we welcome everyone.”
Filipa’s statement confirms my that my initial observations of Lisbon, had been correct — this is a willingly multicultural city, and I am immediately pleased that I called upon Filipa to learn more about the stories behind the city, and of course, the food that comes along with it.
The Staples of Portuguese Gastronomy
The first stop of the day is Manteigaria Silva, a small shop right in the heart of downtown Lisbon. Although much of my curiosity about Lisbon arises from the immigrant cultures residing in it, this store is about as traditional Portuguese as you can find. It’s a seemingly suitable place to begin learning the ins and outs of Portuguese gastronomy.
A manteigaria was traditionally a place to buy butter, and this store has been serving not only butter, but also cheese, olive oil, cured meats, and bacalhau for over 100 years. It could be argued that Manteigarias like this one are essentially a one stop shop for the staples of Portuguese cooking.
Lots of cured meats for sale inside Manteigaria Silva
Portugal’s Favourite Fish – Bacalhau
Interestingly, bacalhau is not fished from the vast Atlantic Ocean that lines the Portuguese coastline, and majority of Portuguese people have probably never seen a fresh, living cod fish. But the tradition of bacalhau in Portugal goes all the way back to the 14th century. That’s eight centuries of history, so if there is a local speciality that that can tell us a story about Portugal, I’m sure that bacalhau must be it.
Bacalhau was widely eaten during Portugal’s “Golden Age of Discoveries” from the 15th to 16th century. It was difficult to find food to feed the sailors while the ships were out in the ocean, so the cod that was fished out of the waters was then salted in order to preserve it for as long as possible, after which is was dehyrated for cooking as it was required.
Look at the size of that bacalhau!
But what was once a food tradition created out of necessity, turned into something that was actively sought after. While back on land in Portugal there are plenty of other food stuffs that have in recent history been, more or less, always readily available — pork and bread spring immediately to mind — bacalhau has always been a favourite “go to” staple for many. So much so that, rumour has it, there are enough recipes to prepare bacalhau differently every day of the year.
The true extent of the bacalhau frenzy is exposed on the tiled walls of Manteigaria Silva. Filipa points us towards two pictures side by side on the wall. On the left there is a framed newspaper article, and on the right a framed police report. In 1977 there was a shortage for bacalhau at Christmas time — a time of that bachalau is sought after to feature in the celebrations among Portuguese families. Crowds came to the store, frustration turned to violence, and the police had to be called to bring back order among the locals.
Bacalhau: Portugal’s favourite fish
The Humble Sardine
It turns out bacalhau hasn’t been the only fish to keep the Portuguese going over the centuries. If there is another fish that competes for people’s choice award in the Portuguese kitchens, it’s the humble sardinha.
In Portugal, sardines have long been associated with summer time and parties, as the only time to eat these fresh is from May to August – here they believe that sardinhas should only be eaten during months that don’t have an “R” in the name. But in the 1880s sardine canning was introduced to Portugal by the French, which turned sardinhas into a fish that could be enjoyed all year around.
Canned sardine postcard. Photo Credit: Marijke Blazer
The fast food and supermarket culture that started to take over traditional ingredients and cooking methods nearly killed the canning industry in the late 1980s and 1990s. But as many of us know all to well, even in our own countries, everything that was once old is now new again.
Retro is back, and even the canned fish industry in Portugal hasn’t escaped this rebirth. This time round canned fish has become a delicacy, and in Filipa’s hands she shows us not only sardines in tomato and olive oil, but also tuna fillet canned with sweet tomato, both packed, primped and prepared to create the perfect retro display on the shelves in the manteigaria.
José Branco and his store, Manteigaria Silva
I could write all day about Manteigaria Silva. Everything in this store is local — except for the spirits lining the back shelves, as the owners prefer local producers to main stream bands. Letting me loose in this store is dangerous. I’m taken in by awe in everything — the suspiciously shiny but retro looking meat shaver, the chouriço and presunto hanging from the ceiling, and the cabinet full of cheeses. I can’t get enough.
The only thing that is stopping me from spending big in the manteigaria is that I’m currently living out of a 50 litre backpack, so I’m happy that before we depart we are treated to olive oil from Alentejo, porco preto from the only commercialised ham factory in Portugal, and a glass of wine — vinho tinto from Portugal’s Algarve region. This is only a mere introduction to the high quality goods that are sold in the store, but I’m grateful to have even had the opportunity to sample this much.
Porco Preto ham, amazing olive oil and excellent wine. What more do I need?
Lisbon’s Taverns
We saunter through Praça da Figueira and into the lower part of Lisbon’s Mouraria neighbourhood. This bairro is known for its multicultural flair, but our first stop here is a local tavern. Filipa explains to us that in Portugal there are two types of taverns. One of them only sells drinks, but the other type sells food too.
We are standing in front of the latter, a place that appears to barely have room to fit our small group, a small tavern called Ze Dos Cornos. Ze is a nickname for Jose, and Dos Cornos means the horns — referring to the original owner Jose cheating on his wife. This could explain why the wife of today’s owner (Jose’s son João) is often seen working in the store, not letting her husband out of sight.
This history of the business itself dates back before its current use. Originally the family ran a coal shop here, back in the days before electricity. But with the arrival of electricity in Lisbon in the 1930s, the business no longer had a purpose. So cheating João turned the premises into a tavern for casual meals.
Inside Ze Dos Cornos, a local Lisbon tavern
Casual is still the aim of the game here. Small stools are squashed side by side with tables adorned by white paper tablecloths. You may be sharing a table with other patrons in the tavern. The food comes out of the kitchen on non-fuss metal plates. Pork ribs are the speciality here, but today we are eating another popular dish called bifana, which is simply a grilled pork sandwich.
The ever organised Filipa has kindly organised gluten free bread for me, so I don’t miss out on the moment of getting my mouth around the sandwich filled with thin slices of pork sirloin, self-dressed with mustard (the traditional) way, or with piri piri sauce (the adventurous way). I tried both. Filipa had to request for the piri piri to make its way to our table. Given that piri piri is practically synonymous with Portuguese cuisine, it’s a surprise that it’s not already on the table to use at our leisure.
“The problem is that if the food hygiene inspectors came in here, they would cry,” explains Filipa, referring to the piri piri on the table. The piri piri here is an 100% homemade, no bullshit version made from garlic, red peppers and lemon juice, and nada mais. A little wooden brush sits in the jar, and is passed from patron to patron, table to table.
The bifana (grilled pork sandwich) and amazing cheeses at Ze Dos Cornos in Lisbon
Modern Day Multiculturism
We say adeus to the bustling tavern and move into Praça Martim Moniz, one of the main squares in the lower part of the Mouraria neighbourhood, and a spot which gives anyone a first insight into the multiculturalism here. In the square is a permanent “fusion market”, made up of 9 stalls selling multicultural and, well, fusion food.
I skim my eyes around the square, and aside from the food stalls there is a group of young Bangladeshi boys playing cricket — a sport not so popular in this football loving country — and a Chinese Dragon which has become a permanent fixture in the middle of the square.
We move over to Filipa’s stand of choice, Moules & Gin, a stand featuring Belgium mussels. But the mussels are where the “fusion” happens, because the origin of the dish that will be telling us the story today is not from Belgium. It originated from the Estremadura region to the east of my dear Lisbon.
Bulhão Pato was a 19th century writer, poet, but most importantly, a restaurant critic, and a restaurant in Estremadura was rumoured to be so grateful for this man that they named a dish after him. The original dish created was Amêijoas à Bulhão Pato, but today we are eating the same style of cooking with mussels. The broth is made from garlic, olive oil and wine, and is served with a side of bread (including gluten free for me!) so every last bit of the broth can be soaked up and enjoyed.
Mussels cooked in “Bulhão Pato” style
The vibe of the market is east meets west, old meets new, flavours, traditions, and ideas combined and enjoyed. The Portuguese aren’t afraid of new concepts and ideas, and in 2015 what better idea to try new things than street food.
At the World Food and Travel Summit the previous day, I had intently listed to Richard Johnson from British Street Food explain how the street food revolution is not only allowing young people to create something for little money, but how street food delivers the food in the optimum moment for enjoyment. The food comes straight off the pan into your hand without a moment delay, void of serving benches and slow waiters. The Portuguese are onto the trend, with seemingly great results.
Street food stalls at the Fusion Market in Praça Martim Moniz, Lisbon
Nearby us, at the edge of Praça Martim Moniz, stands a six storey shopping mall. This is Portugal’s China Town. Each level of the mall is filled with speciality stores, Chinese supermarkets, and the people from Lisbon’s immigrant community rushing around as they go about their daily business.
Although we’ve only had a few stops, by belly is already full — mostly owing to the fact that I hadn’t quite recovered from my “death by food” experience in Alentejo a few days before. So I am pleased to hear that as we leave the square and head into the back streets and alleys of the Mouraria neighbourhood, the next stop will be the other kind of tavern. The drinking kind.
Walking through the streets of the Mouraria to Senhor Antonio’s bar
The Hospitality of Senhor Antonio
We haven’t even made it into Senhor Antonio’s bar and Filipa already gives us a further indication how multicultural this neighbourhood is. Senhor Antonio is local man from Lisbon, and his pokey little bar is next door to an equally pokey little barber shop. The barber is run by an Indian man, and this is where Senhor Antonio pops into get his hair cut. Apparently it’s not uncommon to see them hanging out the doors exchanging friendly conversion with one and other. I can’t wait to meet Senhor Antonio and find out what he’s all about.
Although he speaks no English, Senhor Antonio is the kind of man that makes you feel automatically welcome. It’s smiles and handshakes all round as we enter his little establishment and officially take up every last inch of floor space. This little “home” of Senhor Antonio’s was never supposed to be a long term project – he was in between jobs and acquired the tavern. That was 39 years ago.
Today he is still serving the locals who crowd into his bar in the evenings for a swift drink and a catch up on the local gossip. We are here to try ginjinha – something that my full belly is grateful for. Nothing like a bit of high proof alcohol to get the digestion working.
Quirky decor and ginjinha inside Senhor Antonio’s bar
Ginjinha is a liqueur produced from ginja (sour cherry) effectively making it a sour cherry brandy. The version I am trying here right now I won’t find anywhere else in Lisbon, but this isn’t because Senhor Antonio is making it himself. Between keeping a business running and entertaining his guests, I don’t imagine he has time for ginjinha production.
He orders his ginjinha from the producer with specific recipe requirements — requirements we are not privy to in this conversation. So even if one was to see the same brand of ginjinha in the store, it wouldn’t taste the same. It’s saúde all round, and we sip down our ginjinha before moving onto our next discovery.
Senhor Antonio and Filipa from Taste of Lisboa serving the ginjinha
We wind up the stairs ways and steeps roads of the Mouraria bairro, past buildings lined with tiles, others with crumbling bricks, and some adorned with graffiti. There is a certain kind of shabby charm that leaves me feeling apaixonado with this neighbourhood. The incidental kind. The kind that hasn’t been put on for show. The kind that leaves me wondering, questioning, and feeling inspired all in the same moment.
Portugal is a country that is so close to me in so many ways, but sometimes it feels like I am exploring a different world. Sometimes these streets make me feel like I am are stepping into a time warp. The only thing that gives away the fact we are decades ahead is the year 2000 model cars and plastic shopping bags.
The streets of the Mouraria, Lisbon
The Portuguese, and Goa and Mozambique
Portugal is a country that has strong relations with its former colonies, and for those who don’t believe me, the story behind our next stop will have you believing. We find ourselves at a Mozambique restaurant with Indian influence — Goa in India and Mozambique both being former Portuguese colonies.
In the 1950s when India decided it wanted Goa back, the Portuguese Goans faced a dilemma. They didn’t identify with the Indians, and so they decided to move on to the next colony of Portugal, which was Mozambique. Mozambique remained under Portuguese rule until 1976, and in these 20 or so years a wonderful melting pot of cultures took place.
Vegetable samosas at Aziz’s restaurant in Lisbon’s Mouraria neighbourhood
The restaurant is run by a lovely man called Aziz, and it was his father who founded the restaurant here in Lisbon. His father moved from Goa to Mozambique, fell in love, married a Mozambique woman. Most of the dishes on the menu were created by the Aziz’s mother, and now his wife is focusing on making new signature dishes.
The star dish here is the samosa — it’s one that they have won an award for, but the samosa won’t go down well with me, so I am served the gluten free friendly plantain chips with a spicy sauce. If a month in Cuba taught me anything, it was that I love plantain chips, so I am very happy with my gluten free substitute that Filipa and Aziz have kindly organised for me.
Amazing plantain chips at Aziz’s restaurant in Lisbon’s Mouraria neighbourhood
Innovative Cooking Techniques
No culinary journey is complete without something sweet to finish it off, and lucky for me, Filipa knows just the man for the job. Tiago doesn’t have a team in the kitchen. Tiago doesn’t cook with a stove. It’s fair to say Tiago doesn’t do anything by the book. But what Tiago does is create innovative dishes with what he’s got.
Most of his cooking is done by vacuum cooking, which involves putting food in vacuum seal bags and placing them in an temperature controlled tub for an extended period of time to slowly cook the contents. As we are speaking, he has carrots cooking in his tub at 75 degrees. The carrots will stay in the tub for hours, hours and hours, until they are completely cooked through but not soggy, as no water is allowed to get in the bag.
Tiago has whipped up for us a banana and butter cream which has been vacuum cooked at 75 degrees and finished off with “cinnamon sand” and shavings of São Jorge cheese from the Azores Islands. I am skeptical about the combination of banana and cheese, but I am proven wrong.
Tiano’s culinary art – food with a difference
Tiago’s approach to his cuisine is to have a combination of different textures and flavours. Just think of the flavour difference between a mildly sweet banana and a strong, tangy cheese. Then imagine the texture difference between banana which has been softened even further to “cream”, requiring no effort to eat and grainy “cinnamon sand” which could almost get gritty between the teeth. As Filipa so perfectly sums it up – “Tiago is more than just a chef – he is an artist.”
While many people make comparisons between Spain and Portugal, I can see the difference. Ideas that I had suspected about Lisbon became clearly true on my ramblings around this lesser visited neighbourhood. I see a community of locals who, as Filipa describes “are open to everything they still don’t know.” I see a community of people who are willing to make room for new businesses and ideas. I see a community of people who aren’t afraid to let other flavours, ingredients and cooking techniques into their own cuisine. I have left a piece of my heart with these people, and I know it won’t be long before I am back again.
Photo Credit: (flicts)
Taste of Lisboa Food Tours kindly hosted me on this amazing experience in Lisbon, but of course, all words and opinions are my own.
Also thanks to Aptece for hosting the World Food Tourism Summit, which brought many passionate food lovers to Lisbon in the first place.
Valerian DeSousa says
Lisbon has some excellent Goan restaurants including one at the community center Casa de Goa. You can get the best Indian food at Templo Radha Krishna. Cheers.
Valerian
Cyra says
I love Indian food! I’ll have to check that out next time I’m there – thanks for the tip!